CHAPTER 58
Cassiopeia faced King Wilhelm.
She’d come to the palace to show him the photographs and answer questions as Stephanie passed on the terrible news that his sister was gone. The king had stood silent for the past few moments, absorbing the devastating news.
“We were close, as children,” Wilhelm said, regret in his voice. “But as we grew older, we drifted farther and farther apart. Not estranged. Just a coolness.”
“From her marriage?” Stephanie asked.
“I never cared for Westlake. Just a man with money and an attitude. I tried to like him but never could.”
“There is something else,” Stephanie said.
The king waited.
“We have confirmed that your sister was a tacit asset for the SVR. She had a handler, in Britain, whom we arrested a few hours ago. That woman confessed. She also confirmed that Westlake was not involved.”
“That cannot be true.”
“Unfortunately, it is. Westlake is now missing too. But we’re unsure of his motives and intentions. It could all be planned.”
“And the Codex Gigas?”
Only Koger, Cotton, Ivan, Sandra Koss, Stephanie, the prime minister, and she herself knew the details. The two CIA operatives were also aware of the switch, but not where the codex was headed.
“Unfortunately, I cannot share that information,” Stephanie said.
“The arrangement with the Czechs is proceeding?”
“Again, I cannot say. But I can say that the prime minister has been fully informed as to everything.”
“So the government gets what it wanted. The Czechs get what they wanted. America gets what it wants. And my sister is dead. What. Will. Be. Done. About. That?” With each word he slapped the back of his right hand into the palm of his left.
“Do not be na?ve,” Stephanie said, her voice firm.
“Your sister unwittingly passed on valuable intelligence to the Russians for over a decade. Her actions were foolish and reckless, no matter the lack of criminal intent. And as much as you and I detest Westlake, he was framed to take the blame. That is the reality.”
“As is her death. Who will be held accountable for that?”
“No one,” Cassiopeia made clear. “There is no evidence that points to any specific suspect. Granted, the Russians are at fault. But we have no way of proving that.”
“We have her body.”
“Which, so far, has yielded nothing.”
“Can we not find and capture this Monica Butler-White? Would that not offer up some possibilities?”
“That would,” Stephanie said. “And we are actively searching for her. But my guess is she’s long gone from Sweden. In her mind this operation is over.”
“And Westlake?”
“Gone with her, most likely,” Stephanie said. “There is an indication that the two of them are romantically connected.”
“Good God. My sister died for nothing,” the king muttered with a sigh, the voice filled with sorrow and disbelief.
“Not true,” Stephanie said. “Sweden’s national security is on the line. The security of every one of your subjects is on the line. Serious issues involve serious actions, and there are always, and I mean always, consequences to that. Your sister simply had no idea how deep she was in.”
Wilhelm’s back stiffened. “I resent your tone. We are old friends, and you are here because I asked for your help. But that does not give you the right to denigrate my sister and speak to me as you please.”
Stephanie learned a long time ago that power respected power.
So she stiffened her spine and said, “I am not a Swedish citizen. You are not my king. True, I owe you a measure of respect. But that works both ways. You called me here to help. So we helped. It’s a partial win, for sure, but a win nonetheless.
In my business we take all of those we can get, however we can get them. ”
“And my sister be damned?”
The hostility had faded from the king’s face, and he suddenly looked old and tired.
“She was my friend too, Wilhelm. I mourn her. But she was an unfortunate victim of her own mistakes.”
“And Westlake?”
“Nine years ago he was forced into an untenable situation. The SVR could easily have killed him to protect their asset’s identity.
Instead they went down another path, and Westlake chose the lesser of two evils, accepting the blame, staying silent about Lysa.
I’m not saying I agree with that. I just understand how that choice could have been made.
Now? He’s a co-conspirator. Unfortunately, unless we can find people willing to talk, we have no evidence to prosecute him. ”
The intelligence business was dangerous.
Without a doubt.
Cassiopeia took risks when she went to meet with Monica Butler-White.
Cotton was, at this precise moment, taking a huge risk flying Ivan and the codex away from Sweden.
Sometimes it all seemed so pointless, so repetitious, until she reminded herself that it mattered.
She hated being disrespectful to the king.
Not her style. But she was tired of his blind arrogance.
Yes, he’s royalty. But let’s get real. So what?
Who cares? His kingship was a ceremonial position based on heredity.
Still, she should be conciliatory and was about to apologize when a knock broke the silence.
The door opened and a gloved, uniformed aide entered and handed her a folded sheet of paper before leaving. Interrupting this royal audience meant something important. She read the message, her eyes closing for a moment in despair as she absorbed the bad news.
Dammit.
She motioned with the paper, indicating that Cassiopeia should read it too.
TWO RUSSIAN FIGHTERS HAVE LEFT CHERNYAKHOVSK AIR BASE, HEADED WEST OUT OVER THE BALTIC. NOT ON THE SCHEDULE.
She knew that base. In Kaliningrad Oblast, a wedge of Russian territory that sat between Poland and Lithuania, which provided air support for the Russian Baltic fleet.
And she also knew about the reference to the “schedule.”
Both NATO and the Russians kept each other apprised on any flights over the Baltic. A courtesy that helped keep the peace and prevent some trigger-happy missile operator, or an enemy fighter pilot, from starting a world war.
But no notice had been given for these two.
“Is he in trouble?” Cassiopeia asked.
“What is happening?” the king asked.
“Reality, Wilhelm,” she said. “It has a terrible tendency to never let up.”